


where I follow, you'll go

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Operation Pitfall (Pacific Rim), Trans Newton Geiszler, aka canon newt geiszler, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: "No, I just need to talk." Newt shakes his head. "But you were about to do something- do, do that first.""I'm not entirely sure I need your permission," Hermann comments, but his words don't have the bite they would have only a day before. “I was about to shower, I’ve just gotten off the phone with my sister.”"I just mean I can wait. I left the party, it was too-""Loud?" Hermann supplies and he’s technically not incorrect."Lonely."For a moment, Newt is caught in Hermann's gaze. They both look like they're on the verge of saying something, but before either can, Hermann turns to his bathroom.in which two people talk about their feelings after saving the world and being met with the concept of possibilities for the first time in a long time
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	where I follow, you'll go

**Author's Note:**

> For the darling Emily.
> 
> I know, you may say, LJ where have you disappeared to for so long? I have no good answers. Enjoy reading and I always love to see comments and kudos :)
> 
> Title is from "Collide" by Howie Day because it's always 2002 in my head.

In that moment, the world is no longer heavily crashing down. The bated breath had only been held for a matter of moments, but it feels like it’s a decade in the making. When Newt exhales, it’s so deep it feels almost as if he’s choking or drowning, but that doesn’t make sense. What new air is he taking in that he’s become so overwhelmed with it? What thing has now become lodged deep inside of him?

Okay, the truth is that he definitely knows. It’s not new, it’s just newly raw and apparent in a way it wasn’t allowed to be for a long while. Even after a drift, a complicated and glorious drift, he wasn’t allowing himself to focus on this thing. It was always there, he’s not foolish enough to pretend this is a new connection. Now, though, the magnetism is so strong he feels himself pulled in, a moth circling a flame, a creature helplessly closing in on bait only hoping there is an escape. Or that that option with no escape is better than he dreamed.

When he throws his arm around Hermann in that glorious moment, it's almost too calm. They'd hugged a few moments prior out of relief, but this was different. This gesture was for them, not for the relief on behalf of others. This is their gesture of a job well done, just for them. He knows Hermann is smiling, but is still surprised to realize they're standing like that, his arms slung across the other man's shoulder a few minutes later. In fact, Newt only pulls away because even with the world's largest adrenaline rush, his own arm is becoming sore.

"I think it's time-" Hermann begins, when some j-tech frightens them both with the congratulatory popping of contraband champagne. Something darkens on Hermann's face. "There's going to be so much paperwork."

Newt laughs at how ridiculous the thought is. They've just saved the world, the kaiju aren't coming back. Who cares about paperwork? 

"I do," Hermann answers and they both pause. Newt didn't say anything out loud, did Hermann read that much just in his face and mannerisms?

"I'm gonna get me some of that champagne," Newt says, excusing himself from thinking too much. "I think they're going to start up a proper party."

"You can't possibly want to- look at the state of you!"

Newt glances down, his pants and jacket are torn, his shirt is stained, there's a large crack in one of his glasses lenses. Thankfully he has a spare pair. Somewhere. He hasn’t even thought about the “state of him” for a while.

"Everyone else is sweaty and gross, I don't see what the issue is." Newt is torn between shrugging it off and pushing Hermann's buttons, just to see how he will react now. 

"You were almost eaten and spent the evening sliding through Hong Kong."

"And we saved the world, dude." Newt’s not sure if he’s proud or ashamed of the way he’d acted, to be honest. He remembers being a coward, but he also remembers standing up to a very scary, oddly charismatically attractive man and finding out information vital to saving the world.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Newt's plan is swept under the rug when they're both ushered to med bay on the strict orders of Herc Hansen himself.

Even after seeing Hermann stripped bare mentally, the sight of him in a medical gown is strange. They're both being examined carefully and Newt is honestly so fascinated by Hermann's body he wishes the doctor prodding him would stop, if only for a moment. He wants just a few uninterrupted moments to stare at Hermann’s knobby knees.

"So, they're gonna give me fresh clothes, I don't see why we can't go to this party," Newt argues. Someone has gone to each of their rooms and fetched them clothing- Hermann's as stuffy as usual, and the comfort of sweatpants and a worn MIT sweatshirt for Newt. Somehow they have managed to find his spare glasses, thankfully. 

"Because you have had a traumatic experience and I have had you prodding around in my head," Hermann supplies, appearing from behind the curtain they were given for privacy pulling a sweater over his head. “Also neither of us smell particularly pleasant right now.”

_ Maybe not so stuffy _ , Newt thinks, noticing the v neck of the sweater. Being in love with this man has him all sorts of fucked up, thinking a v neck and some slacks can be exotic. Seeing him without a shirt will probably warrant a heart attack. Newt has to catch himself for thinking firmly that he  _ will  _ see Hermann like that, with some sort of certainty.

"And we only get to celebrate saving the world once!" Newt protests. "Don't you want to see drunk Tendo? That's the best kind." There's desperation in his tone. Newt can't say what he wants to say even now but he doesn’t want to be left alone to process all the words.

"I think the world being saved is the reward in and of itself in this instance."

Newt winces as the doctor prods at a bruised spot on his side. "You won't go with me?"

That seems to change the way Hermann deliberates, and prompts a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks. He looks so charming when he feels awkward, or maybe when he's feeling human.

"Newton, you know that I-" Hermann starts.

"Yeah?" Newt can't help but look over at him expectantly.

"Not with the doctors around," Hermann says aloud, then takes a step back. Newt has never seen him look more nervous in his life.

"They're almost done," Newt supplies, wincing at another prod. "I just think you're gonna realize you're missing out if you don't… go to the party."

"Fine, I suppose I could make an appearance."

Normally Newt would use this chance to gloat at his victory, but the doctor is unceremoniously shoving his bundle of clothes at him, likely eager to get to the celebrations himself. There’s rumor that someone has managed to acquire gin, of all liquors. 

Behind the curtain is a sink and a bar of soap and Newt washes up as best as he can. He peers at himself in the mirror, his one red eye and disheveled face look almost foreign to him. Perhaps he does need to take some time for himself and wash properly. He rushes the rest of dressing and is surprised to find Hermann is waiting for him on the other side. 

"Good as new," he announces, holding out his arms.

"You smell like cheap hand soap."

"Would you rather kaiju guts?"

"That's familiar, at least."

"Party time?" Newt asks, doing a little motion like he's dancing. It's awkward, but so is everything at the moment. 

"Why are you so insistent on going to this damned party, Newton?"

"Because?" He's not sure of all the reasons, it just makes sense in his head, like he wants to keep the chaos rolling.

"I can't make it, I'm sorry."

"Where else do you have to be, Hermann?"

"Oh, bugger off!" Hermann exclaims, and turns for the doorway of the infirmary.

"Just be like that, you grumpy bastard! Heaven forbid you show joy or anything like it! I saw in your head, you never had a positive feeling in your life."

"And you never learned when to leave something well enough alone."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Mature," Hermann mutters, and slams the door behind him for good measure. 

If Hermann were still in the room, Newt would make damn sure he knew just who was the immature one, likely with some hand gestures and loud words. The Geiszler way. 

The chaos in and of itself is a form of bliss. In at least two separate corners, there are people with music on their devices and everyone is talking and laughing. Raleigh and Mako are freshly returned and looking at each other the way doe eyed teenagers in love for the first time do. As much as Newt wants to congratulate them, he feels too much envy to dare approach. He will not let his bitterness ruin these moments for anyone but himself. There's time to no longer be this bitterest version of himself.

He smiles warmly when a j-tech he barely knows passes him a drink made from rationed cola and bootleg vodka. He even raises the cup in a cheers, but it feels hollow. Everyone in the room seems wrapped up in someone or something else. Tendo is holding up a picture of a small baby, and there's some people openly weeping on video calls in the backdrop of the crowd, not caring about the noise. Sure, Newt wanted the festivities but he didn't want them like this. Not this sort of alone.

It's absurd how quickly he had come up with a fantasy around this, Hermann by his side as passerbys greet them and congratulate them. Most people would know not to stay very long, just give them warm and knowing smiles and then walk away. But what is it that he's expecting that other people know? How would they know, exactly? Given the option of downing his cup or putting it aside, he places it on a nearby table. This may be growth, or just him suddenly knowing where he needs to be. 

He allows himself to push into the crowd, because he wants to make his proper congratulations and be seen. Even in this loneliness, he wants to be a rock star and he hates himself for this. He thrives with each pat on the back or knowing nod from the same people who found him overbearing or annoying just a matter of hours earlier. Crying has always come easy to Newt and he feels like now is going to be a moment that he breaks down, but he doesn’t want that just yet. The emotions he feels inside him shouldn’t be seen by these people. Instead of continuing his trek, he retreats and finds a spot by a corner, hesitating for a moment on what he should best do. Should he stay or should he go? The answer seems painfully obvious.

Not bothering to so much as catch someone else's eye, he cuts out and turns down the halls of the Shatterdome. The sound of the party echoes off of the walls and pounds through the whole base. Still, when he arrives at Hermann's quarters near the lab, he can barely hear the celebrations for the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest and something residual ringing out in his head. He wonders if Hermann is feeling and hearing the same thing as well.

Newt knocks twice, then waits. Then he knocks another two times before Hermann slowly opens the door.

"Newton." Hermann doesn't look surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"Can I come in?" Newt asks. “I’m sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

Hermann does pry the door open further, revealing that he's wrapped tight in his robe. 

"Is something wrong?" Hermann repeats. “And I’m used to you being an arse, if I needed an apology every time, we’d never get anywhere.”

"No, I just need to talk." Newt shakes his head. "But you were about to do something- do, do that first."

"I'm not entirely sure I need your permission," Hermann comments, but his words don't have the bite they would have only a day before. “I was about to shower, I’ve just gotten off the phone with my sister.”

"I just mean I can wait. I left the party, it was too-"

"Loud?" Hermann supplies and he’s technically not incorrect.

"Lonely."

For a moment, Newt is caught in Hermann's gaze. They both look like they're on the verge of saying something, but before either can, Hermann turns to his bathroom. 

Most of the Shatterdome shares communal showers, but Hermann's always had accommodations that allow for a private bathroom. When they're getting along well enough, Newt is sometimes able to take advantage of his connection to Hermann and use his showers and even his fancy soaps. (Shower chairs? Awesome and everyone should have one.) At times he tells himself it's the only reason he ever stays on Hermann's good side, but there’s never been much use in Newt lying to himself.

Newt perches himself on the edge of Hermann's bed as he waits, but that doesn't last for long. In addition to his usual anxiety, the stress and confusion, he feels Hermann's own feelings radiating from the other room. These thoughts ignite under his skin, and he should be reassured by them, but instead the warmth of him makes his blood feel cold. Transparency and the sharing of these emotions doesn’t seem to mean much if it’s not accompanied by words out in the open, by sharing of feelings in a verbal and firm way.

He stands, shaking his clammy hands. His heart feels like it's beating for two and maybe, in a way it is, but this isn't an unfamiliar feeling for him. He's dealt with panic attacks before. His first instinct is to knock on Hermann's door to ask for something, but he can't place what he'd even ask for. Instead, he paces. There’s not enough room within Hermann’s room to wander far, but he doesn’t want to be out in the hallways like this, the last thing he wants is to be caught unaware by a stranger.

At first, he touches things around Hermann's small room. There's a photo of Hermann and his sister on his nightstand, arms slung around each other and near identical smiles cracking apart their faces. When Newt is done consuming that joy, he looks through Hermann's small library. He's organized it using the Dewey decimal system, and the only shocking thing is that he doesn't have labels on the books or perhaps little handwritten library cards as tokens of each time he's read each book. He knows how well loved many of these books are, and how cherished things have become since the war started. Rooms in the Shatterdome don’t allow for the types of libraries men like Hermann and himself are used to. 

This is also not enough and the only thing in that moment Newt can really focus on is trying to breathe and trying to walk a hole in Hermann's floor. It's bullshit that mere hours after saving the world, Newt feels like he's about to die. He can't have any of the joy in the triumph- he can't dance or shout or drink cheap booze. Instead, even after all this time he's still waiting with his heart in his throat.

On Hermann's desk is some unfiled paperwork, the stack looks small and alarmingly recent. The ink is smudged and there's a smile in Tendo's handwriting on the folder they're in. Newt likely has a similar stack waiting for him, but that's not the issue. No, the issue is just how small the stack of papers is. Is this all there is left of their work? There has to be more that needs to be done. 

But no, the kaiju are gone. At best there will be work around preventing anything like what happened from happening again but it's not a guarantee. It certainly isn't enough to keep them near each other or even on the same continent. It was kismet alone that brought them physically together in Hong Kong and Newt resents himself for being too angry and hateful towards Hermann for years to appreciate that for what it is.The thought chills Newt, or maybe that's his brain screaming at him that he's going to die. 

Newt slumps to the floor and feels useless. Less than a day ago he was nearly eaten alive; he watched a man be eaten alive and this is when his body does this. He could have been eaten by a kaiju twice, or trampled or crushed or destroyed in a fiery end with the rest of the world, and still his body didn’t panic in such a way until now that he’s got a few quiet and calm moments. How does his stupid, defunct body have anything to spare? He brings his knees to his chest and pulls them in close and just stares as he thinks. Anxiety and stress often animate Newt, turn him into a fidgeter or something flighty. These panic attacks leave him dead still and waiting.

When Hermann emerges from the bathroom, his hair askew and in lounge clothes that look almost uncharacteristically soft, he doesn't speak before sinking to the floor beside Newt. It's a deliberate move, Hermann casting his cane aside and then bracing himself against the bed. For a moment, Newt feels the faintest phantom twinge in his leg but he doesn't know how to speak up about Hermann's pain. He's not sure he can speak at all, his tongue feels heavy and useless. 

"I'm sorry," Hermann says, his tone surprisingly soft. "I think I've- I was very anxious and thinking of you in the shower and I think-"

"You gave me your panic attack?" Newt's response is somewhere between a sob and a laugh. He wipes at the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "I think it was on top of my own, so don't flatter yourself."

Gently, Hermann takes Newt's hand by the wrist and checks his pulse. This gesture makes no sense, Newt knows this, he's a biologist, but he understands all the same. There is no real risk to Newt's physical health, but it feels like it to both of them. What is incomprehensible to him is that in the next moment, Hermann lifts the wrist to his thin mouth and presses a kiss to it. Newt sees and feels sparks behind his eyes and the world is half erupting. Their eyes meet and it's like the drift all over again, that perfect synergy of human connection as they see each other for who they are. Newt loves Hermann to the point of bursting but he can't help but pull away, almost abruptly and start dry heaving his way into panicked breathing.

"Newton-"

"I'm fine- just-" he pauses to take a deep breath. Then another. "Just need a moment."

"I didn't mean to alarm you. Perhaps I've been...misunderstanding." Newt doesn't need to see Hermann to know the exact expression playing across his face in that moment; confusion, hurt, and the barest hint of anger at the prospect of being wrong about something. "But I didn't think there could be misunderstanding in- in what we've shared. I've seen you as clearly as you've seen me. But if I'm wrong, I'll never do something like that again, I promise."

"It was just a lot at once," Newt explains. It wasn't, it was one small gesture. Or is he talking about the drift? He's not so sure but it doesn't change that he feels overwhelmed.

"Of course. I don't know what I had actually expected drifting with you and the nasty kaiju brain to be like, but that was intense. Not that I disliked being in your head."

"Y'know it's like…" Newt pauses and then takes a deep breath. "I've spent a long time thinking about you and just sort of wondering what the hell is going on in that guy's head. Like it's something I've been trying to figure out, I've wanted to figure out, since I first met you. And then it's there, the answers but I can't go digging because we need to save the fucking world."

"You want to go digging in my head?" Hermann asks.

"Yes- no. Yes. Not literally, I feel like I should clarify there. I want to do like an emotional lobotomy on what's going on in that noggin if yours." Newt laughs awkwardly. "Almost like I wish we could drift again. Do you think we could drift again?"

Hermann's expression is still but understanding. "Technically we could, Newton."

"But there's other ways to get that result, the thing I want." Newt blinks at him a few times. This is immense perhaps because it doesn't have a scientific explanation. Neither of them are good without one laid out before them and Newt wishes he was in the lab with this thing in front of him. His scalpel would make quick work of it. 

"And while I believe I want the same results you do, I think it's important we get them the old fashioned way. If what we just did is really the end of the blasted war, we have time to do things the traditional way."

"You proposing to me, Hermann?"

"Hardly." Hermann's smiling nonetheless, his mouth wide yet thin. His lips look far too inviting despite it. "Are you feeling better with the panic attack?"

"Almost gone." Newt's heartbeat seems to be back to something like a normal rhythm and the impending sense of death is no longer taking over his every thought. The thrum of anxiety that runs through him now is much more of what he typically faces and something brought forward by physical proximity. This is normal for him. 

"May I kiss you now?"

The question floors Newt, each element, from the softness of Hermann's voice to the way he looks at him under those unfairly pretty lashes thrills him. He never expected this, which is absurd when Hermann had kissed his wrist just a few minutes prior. Still, those two gestures carry very different meanings.

Newt nods slowly, then a bit more eagerly. His mouth feels dry and he curses himself for that, because that's far from the optimal condition for kissing. They'll manage though, the way they've managed so many other things in their complicated life together up until this point. 

Who actually initiates the kiss will remain up for debate, and there's an awkward moment where they knock noses in their confusion. The first moment feels dry and awkward and then something inside of Newt melts and it's perfect. The kiss is not too deep, but far from chaste, the perfect culmination of years of want. If it had gone any harder or farther, Newt is sure he would combust. He's been thinking of this for so long that to have it requires far more time to process than he allowed when he's also trying to not be terrible at kissing. Is he terrible at kissing? He certainly doesn't want to be.

Hermann's hand settles on his thigh, not too far up but enough that Newt's heart starts pounding in his chest. He hasn't even thought about the fact that things exist past just kissing or that he could have them. It's too much, but he wants it. The spark of want is persistent in his lower stomach. Years of fantasy can't compare to this chap-lipped and clumsy reality.

They pull apart moments later.

"You're trembling, Newton," Hermann says. "Was that no good?"

"No! No, it was great. Just perhaps a bit soon after-"

"Of course. I'm sure what you need now is rest more than me pawing at you."

"Oh, your one untoward hand, the horror." Newt smiles wryly. "I should wash and maybe sleep." This is the first moment that sleep has been on Newt's radar for what feels like ages, but he feels sluggish. He'd like to sleep for at least a decade.

"Stay here," Hermann half offers, half commands. "You can borrow some of my clothes for the night, if you want to change. And I don't think you'd be opposed to using my shower. I've got two more siblings to call."

"Okay. Clothes would be...I'll take them." Newt isn't going to argue that point. He rises slowly, catching sight of the papers on Hermann's desk again. Right, kissing Hermann doesn't actually mean anything has changed. Things could change still, they could both go far, far away.

"I trust you don't need help with the shower." Hermann rises a bit more slowly than Newt, but he doesn't want or ask for help. Newt knows this. "I'll find you something to wear."

"Thanks." Newt wonders if Hermann still feels giddy from the kiss as well. He hopes he does, or else what is the point of kissing?

Hermann's bathroom still holds residual warmth from Hermann's earlier shower, which Newt is grateful for. He leaves his clothes in a small pile when he strips out of them but he thinks better of it and makes an attempt at folding. He'd debated not asking for clothes to borrow at all, but he knows Hermann can be particular about what clothes are and aren't allowed in his bed.

The water is cold when he fiddles with the knobs. He wonders dimly how many other people in the Shatterdome have had the same idea. The community shower must have a line right now, people waiting to wash off years of stress and fear. Newt wants to take a moment to let it linger as the water warms, catching sight of himself in the mirror. 

One of his eyes is ringed red and he knows this will likely go away and he's glad for that, but he does admire that Hermann has the same thing for the days or weeks or however long it will take to heal. It's a noticeable proclamation that they are a set, two pieces that belong together. That's an absurd thought because no one has met either of them in years without knowing this, but there will be people they both meet who may not know. Newt wants to claim ownership of Hermann.

He doesn't hear the door open or the sound of surprise right away as Hermann steps in. He must have expected that Newt was in the shower already. It doesn't matter, even with his bruises and scrapes, Newt isn't ashamed of his nudity and it's not something he hides. He can't help but smile, though, when his eyes meet Hermann's for a few moments.

The feeling that hangs in the air is the exact intersection of shame and desire, which Newt now realizes is a fairly frequent Gottlieb emotion. He steps wordlessly into the shower and holds back the laugh when Hermann pulls the door shut. With any luck, Hermann will get used to the sight of Newt naked in time. 

He now has a sense of what Hermann was feeling during his panic attack, and if it wasn't exactly what he's craved for years it would be annoying. After all, no one wants to get a sense of embarrassment when washing their hair or using far too much of their co worker's oddly expensive body wash. This is an indulgence he's been waiting for after years of stress. (Not the body wash part, that he's done on occasion before.)

As much as Newt wants to take the time to indulge, to investigate bruises and scrapes, he also knows that he needs to have some speed. He's using someone else's shower and, more importantly, if he's going to deal with Hermann's feelings, it might as well be face to face. Besides, as far as Newt knows, he'll have time to take many more long showers in the future. Who knows, maybe he'll even be able to move into a place with a bathtub. That would be fantastic. Maybe he can move into a place with a bathtub with Hermann and take baths with Hermann.

When he's done washing, Newt does his best to dry and arrange his hair so he doesn't look like a disgruntled child. He even borrows Hermann's comb to try to control it. His presentation seems especially important tonight. 

Hermann set aside a pair of worn flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Both fit Newt oddly, but will do for a night. It's comforting to be in Hermann's things, with the scent of his hypoallergenic fabric softener he's hoarded for years lingering in the air. Taking a steeling breath, Newt steps outside into the main room. 

The room is dimly, comfortably, lit now and Hermann sits on his bed, flipping through the papers that were on his desk. He's got those little librarian glasses perched on his nose and he looks up at Newt with one of his expressions that plays between judgement and fondness.

"I apologize for my intrusion earlier," Hermann says as he puts the papers aside. "I thought you were already in the shower."

"I was admiring the battle wounds." Newt smiles and taps underneath his eye. He's tempted for a moment to show Hermann one of the bruises on his torso, more to tease than to share, but he's embarrassed the man enough for the night. 

Newt pads over to the bed then, trying not to worry that Hermann may have changed his mind about the offer to stay the night. Hermann adjusts some of his pillows so there's room and moves over slightly. He was granted a larger bed than Newt's paltry twin, but it's not exactly spacious; calling the bed a full size might be generous. Newt sits awkwardly beside him for a few moments. 

"Well…" Hermann begins. "Would this be easier if we turned out the lights?"

"Would what be easier?" Newt asks cautiously. Is Hermann breaking up with him after one kiss? Were they even together? Damn, Newt's never heard of drifting with someone breaking them up so quickly. Usually compatibility tests take away the risk of that. 

"Talking about the future. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

Why the hell is Hermann so calm about this?

"I guess, yeah." Newt's suddenly far too self aware of where to put his hands, he's become the fidgety child who doesn't know what to do with all the bits of him. 

But then Hermann takes his hand in his own and everything seems right. 

"It's terrifying," Hermann admits. "The grinding halt of the world not ending and we're such an age that this has been most of our adult lives so far but-"

"There's still so much left. Pending any of the completely normal things that can do wrong."

And that's the feeling Newt has been trying not to process. The world was loud and alarming and always on the verge of ending and now it's expanded. The feeling of the future was a contained moment and now it's the big bang, growing. Dammit, when did astronomy sneak into Newt's thoughts like this?

"We are young, in the grand scheme of things," Hermann says. "Or relatively young. Minimal grey in our hair."

"You can't even grow a beard yet," Newt can't help but tease.

Hermann tsks with displeasure but doesn't let that keep him from talking. "So do you want to talk about this with the lights on or off?"

Newt strokes his thumb against the back of Hermann's hand before he switches the light off. He still knows Hermann's there but the pressure lessens, the daunting fear of seeing rejection is gone. They're just two people in a shared void, it feels not dissimilar to the drift in that way.

"I'm in love with you," Newt admits, screwing his eyes shut even in the dark. "I don't doubt that you know that, but I think it needs said before we- you know. Before we talk about anything."

"Of course. Newton, I-" Hermann hesitates a moment, like his breath is caught in his throat. "Newton, I love you too. I want you." 

For a moment everything is still. Newt isn't sure if this is going to devolve into something more physical or something with tears. Maybe both. He's actually more than fine with both. Tears would be great right now, exactly what this moment needs. His breath catches in his throat when he attempts to speak, though, which gives Hermann the chance to continue.

“Which is to say, I know it is bold of me to offer this, but I want to spend my life with you.” Hermann squeezes Newt’s hand lightly. “I’m open to whatever capacity that is and the unknown, the incalculable while terrifying, is what I want to venture into with you. We have options for our future and now we are not forced to be together, but I dare hope that we will both choose to be together. The future is more meaningful for us because we can choose to be together.”

Newt nods before realizing that Hermann must be barely able to see him.

“That’s what I want,” Newt answers. “To be with you, to find a future with you. I was worried you’d be so dead set on something where I couldn’t follow you, or worse, you just wouldn’t want me to and I don’t have a claim on you to say anything about it but I just really don’t want you to go away.”

“Where exactly do you think I have to go?”

“I don’t know, I assumed Oxford and Cambridge are preparing a tug of war battle for you or something like that.”

Hermann laughs, a short and amused huff. “And you think universities of that caliber will not want you as well?”

“I don’t even know if I wanna teach or do research with a university!” Newt exclaims, as though that’s the answer to the question at all.

“Newton, I’m trying to make it clear to you that I have no idea what I want to do either, and that I’d really like it if it was a decision we made together, whether we find a way to continue to work with the PPDC or continue to civilian life, whether we live together or apart, I would like being  _ together  _ to be the condition that we both keep non negotiable.”

“Oh, right.” Complex options have complex solutions, but they can make sure that none of these means the two of them will actually separate.

“And I do not mean to say that I want to pressure you into a romantic relationship if you are not interested in one but-”

“And you say I talk too much.”

Reaching for Hermann in the dark, Newt pulls him in for a kiss. He misses on the first attempt and lands on his chin, but the second try hits the sweet spot and that’s all that matters. They’ve got time to get these sorts of things sorted out. It’s a small, tired kiss, and they both settle more comfortably into the bed afterwards. Newt collects both of their glasses to set aside on the nightstand. Even if the kissing is new, and it is very new and very exciting, this sort of ease in taking care of each other has become an old habit by now. Who else was going to take care of either of them with the world on the precipice of ending?

In the quiet of the room, they can hear the sounds of people spilling forth in the Shatterdome, some returning to their rooms, others becoming more belligerent in their loudness. Part of Newt knows this is a once in a lifetime celebration and a place he should be, but he can’t really imagine spending his moments anywhere else. Sure, you might only save the world once, but you also only get to be with Hermann well...this sounds like forever, but Newt’s still going to choose this. A lifetime is once, too.

“I wouldn’t mind traveling,” Newt says, his voice cutting across the quiet of the room. “I’d like to spend some time with my dad for a bit, but then maybe get out and see the world, see how I can help the world. There’s a lot of work that needs done in the oceans right now, and I’d love to get back into marine biology. That’s sort of what I set out to do, once upon a time.”

“I could go with you,” Hermann adds. “Or I could find a homebase. I’ve got a decent amount of savings that I wager I wouldn’t need to work for a few years, or I could work on writing and publishing some of my findings from the past several years.”

“Because academic writing pays the big bucks,” Newt teases.

“It’s either that or poetry.”

“You do  _ not  _ write poetry, Hermann.”

“You’re the one who has been in my brain, why don’t you do some soul searching for yourself to figure that out.”

“Oh god, you do.” Newt bites his lower lip. “Is it math poetry? Just asking.”

“The subject of my works is something you need to discover for yourself in due course.”

“I mean, you’re not maintaining my lavish Shatterdome lifestyle on either academic writing or poetry, so it doesn’t really matter much either way.” Newt scoots closer, telling himself it’s for warmth. It’s only after he moves that he fully realizes that he doesn’t need an excuse to do this. He no longer needs to make up excuses to be closer to Hermann- handing him a mug of tea, J-techs walking too closely in the hallway, a cold evening as Hermann smokes and Newt can’t leave him alone because it will break his train of thought.

“Why don’t we discuss what kind of lavish lifestyle you’re planning for tomorrow? Or...later today, I’m not really sure what the time is anymore.”

Boldly, Newt throws an arm around Hermann and pulls him closer. “Tomorrow, or the next day, depending on how late we sleep.”

"Please do not snore directly in my ear."

"Mhm. I bet you write poems about me."

"Don't change the subject, Newton."

"Romantic poems musing on the color of my eyes or something."

"I plan to sleep well and for a long time."

"Now who is changing the subject here?"

Hermann sighs, but there's really no edge to it. In the next moment, after all, he presses a kiss to the top of Newt's head. The gesture holds the type of fondness that could bring a man to his knees, so Newt is very glad he's already laying down. 

There’s two distinct thoughts warring in Newt’s mind; one of them fears that if he falls asleep all of this will fade away like a dream, the other knows that this is the reward he deserves after everything. Maybe even the dream of this would be a reward, Newt thinks to justify it to himself. Still, he wants to wake up and have this as his life and that would be the preferable outcome. When he opens his mouth to speak to Hermann one last time, he realizes the man beside him is breathing the even breath of a well earned sleep.

Newt finds himself counting each breath, trying to replicate it even as his heart beats a bit too fast in his chest. There’s beauty in the rhythm, the predictability of the next breath coming in just a few moments. If they sync their breathing up, maybe it’ll be somewhat like replicating the drift. He counts and counts until he’s surely achieved what he’s set out for and falls asleep.

When Newt wakes, the world feels quiet in a way it hasn’t in years. (By the world, he means the Shatterdome, which has become his own little ecosystem, he’s not really sure what’s normal for the world outside anyway.) The party must be long over and everyone returned to their rooms or their homes for rest. In his sleep, Hermann rolled away from Newt to face the wall but that doesn’t matter, the thing that matters is that he’s still there. Of course he’s there, Newt realizes naively, he’s in Hermann’s room and his bed. The doubt he felt before falling asleep rises back up in his chest, only to be met by Hermann rolling over and pulling him closer. He makes sleepy noises against Newt’s neck, possibly the last words hanging on from a dream. It seems to be a pleasant dream, from the way he seems to sigh the incomprehensible words.

Newt doesn’t want to wake Hermann just yet, but he does shift to get more comfortable and has to bite the inside of his cheek to bite back the smile when Hermann presses against him and he feels a telltale hardness against his ass. This is a biological response, and a common one at that, but Newt is choosing to be an optimist after the way Hermann pulled him closer. Newt presses back, pushing his ass against Hermann’s groin. The arm around him stiffens suddenly, but rather than retreating, it grips onto him for a moment before pushing up his ill fitting t-shirt.

There’s always a moment, Newt’s noticed in his admittedly limited experience, before there’s a sort of flip switched. It’s the precise moment when two bodies go from two bodies together because of the simple concept of proximity and two bodies that are going to intentionally come together. There’s electricity in the moment, and every inch of Newt’s body seems to come alive. As a biologist, Newt understands this as some unspoken agreement to give into a natural urge, as a romantic this makes Newt see fireworks behind his eyes. There are certainly fireworks when Hermann’s adept fingers tug at Newt’s right nipple, toying delicately with the piercing. Newt can tell that Hermann’s fascinated.

“Sleep well, darling?” Hermann half mumbles, his breath heavy against Newt’s neck.

“Never better.” Newt wonders if now is the time to turn around, or if this is an action he should delay for just a few moments longer. Instead, he rocks back again. This movement is met with a thrust forward and Newt’s more than happy to take a few moments more to tease.

They rock back and forth just like that for those few more moments, content at just the movement of the barest friction. But it’s not enough, no, they need to be bare with each other and take these moments further.

“Hermann?” Newt asks, caution playing at the edge of his voice.

“Yes, Newton?”

“You good with this?”

“Of course, but thank you for asking.” Hermann presses a kiss to the back of Newt’s neck. “And you’re alright?”

“Feeling great and I’d really like to continue.”

“Then please do.” Newt can feel Hermann’s smug smirk against his skin, and he wants to wipe it off his face. Or maybe kiss it off, either will do more than adequately for the situation.

He’s careful, at least, to move Hermann’s hand away, but does not hesitate to roll and push Hermann onto his back. Newt only winces slightly as he straddles him but it’s enough to take the concept of immediately kissing his smugness away. Or that’s what he’ll say it is, and not the fact that Newt’s fairly certain his heart is in his throat when he sees how Hermann looks up at him, pupils blown wide and dark and his smile curving up in warmth. Newt doesn’t want to kiss him for the sake of kissing away any part of him, in fact, he’ll gladly keep every part of the man beneath him. No, Newt will kiss him for his own selfish desire to kiss him. And so he does.

Hermann’s steady hands move to Newt’s hips and Newt’s too distracted by the kissing to fully realize that Hermann’s more than subtly hinting that he wants Newt to grind down against him.

“You horny bastard,” Newt says, pulling away. “I love you.”

“I’m simply encouraging efficiency,” Hermann defends.

“If you’re a five minute maximum pump type of guy, we’re gonna have some work to do, babe.” Newt winks before lifting his shirt over his head.

“It’s not the amount of time that matters, but what you accomplish with the time.”

“Sometimes I take twice that long to come so-” Newt’s beginning his teasing tirade, his know it all speech, and doesn’t even realize that he’s being pushed over and flipped onto his back.

“I can take hours if that’s what you want, Newton, you simply need to ask.” Hermann looks like the cat that’s got the cream as he speaks. 

Rather than take his triumph by straddling Newt, Hermann opts instead to slide his deft fingers down the front of Newt’s pajama bottoms. Newt inhales sharply when Hermann’s fingers brush against his clit, so readily engorged for him.

“You’re bigger than I imagined,” Hermann observes, half with heady arousal, half with indifferent observation. Newt’s honestly not sure what he finds sexier, but he is fighting the urge to ask Hermann to fuck him into the mattress. He doesn’t think it would be much of an issue with Hermann if he did ask, but he’s got to show that he’s not completely the easiest man in the world.

“Have you been with-” Newt’s got the rest of the question on his tongue but Hermann nods before he finishes.

“I have to ask you to shut up and let me do my work. I don’t want you exerting yourself with your injuries.”

“You’re the one who pushed me down!”

Hermann hums in agreement as he starts to rub, every few moments stopping to tease his fingers lower. There’s the clumsiness of a man who is out of practice, and the curiosity of a man who is with a new lover, but it very much so works. Newt would be offended if Hermann wasn’t just a bit nervous with this.

“Lubricant?” Hermann asks. “Top drawer.”

Newt fumbles with the drawer and pulls out a bottle after some awkward searching. He tosses it down the bed and it nearly misses. He adjusts his position so he’s more comfortable and spreads his legs just a bit further, so one is dangling rather unceremoniously off of the bed.

“You’re alright with internal stimulation?” Hermann queries, rather intently toying with Newt’s clitoris.

“Y-yeah. Just not the ass, I mean, need a bit more prep for that, you know?”

“Oh, I’m very familiar with the process of being buggered, Newton.”

“D’you want me to bugger you?” It sounds absurd and comes out in a rush. Newt immediately blushes a bold red, which is not helped by Hermann rather unceremoniously pulling his pajama bottoms down as though he has no regards for them.

“I do,” Hermann answers matter of factly. “But I don’t have the equipment in my room. Later.”

Newt’s not even given a moment to dwell on the concept of later, or to state about how Hermann clearly has half the appointment in his bedside drawer, when Hermann pushes two fingers inside of him. He has to take a few moments to collect himself, to even his breath. Hermann, his penpal turned rival turned labmate turned drift partner is inside of him in some capacity. It’s not enough.

“Fuck me.” 

“In due time. Will you let me do what I’ve been dreaming of more than anything first?” Hermann, the frumpy coquette that he is, actually looks at Newt through his lashes when he says this.

There’s no other way that Newt can respond but an eager nod. Did Hermann really imply that his biggest fantasy hasn’t been to fuck him but to pamper him with this sort of attention? That’s absurdly sexy to Newt and his desire to be praised and admired. Hermann sets up a steady rhythm with his fingers, pumping them in and out and Newt closes his eyes to melt into the rhythm.

“Newton,” Hermann says, his voice low. “I want you to look at me when I do this, can you do that for me?”

The sound that comes out of Newt’s mouth can only be described as a squeak. He feels like a drooling creature and he can only nod his answer as he meets Hermann’s eyes. When Hermann puts his mouth on him, he shouts. Immediately after, he clamps his hand over his mouth. Hermann pulls away and Newt expects him to look annoyed, but he looks rather pleased.

“I’m going to make you scream someday,” Hermann states. “But I think for the sake of everyone’s peace and rest, we should endeavor to keep relatively quiet.”

Still, Hermann doesn’t really give him much recovery time before his mouth is back on Newt’s clit. Newt’s biting his lip hard when Hermann’s tongue moves along the length, and when it disappears into his mouth. Hermann slips his fingers back inside of Newt’s cunt, but this time he adds a third. This has been too long coming for Newt to feel any embarrassment about the tightness he feels in his lower stomach, or about the strangled cry that leaves him as he comes. Hermann doesn’t let him go immediately, either, kissing and sucking through the orgasm, until Newt’s twitching and he thinks he must be too sore to go on.

Except he isn’t, and instead he feels the same pleasure wash over him again, his back actually arching off the bed like he’s in some cliche romance novel. It’s then and only then that Hermann pulls away, wiping delicately at the corners of his mouth. He moves up the bed, wiping his sticky fingers against Newt’s stomach. Newt really doesn’t mind. In fact, Newt wants to be made a mess before, during, and after sex if he could have his way all the time.

“What the fuck, dude.” Newt turns to Hermann, his eyes wide. “You’ve been capable of that the whole time?”

“Well, you never asked.” 

“What, if at any point before I had said “will you go down on me” you would have just done it?”

“No, I would have filed a HR complaint.” Hermann looks more like his normal, collected himself and Newt’s not ready for that yet. “But I would have wanted to do it.”

He grabs Hermann’s face and pulls him in for a heated and deep kiss. Newt wants this every morning. When they talk about their future later, Newt’s going to tell Hermann that he wants this every morning they possibly can have it, and he doesn’t just mean the sex. He wants the jokes and the conversation and seeing Hermann in his sleep clothes with his morning breath and his hair sticking up at angles. In all his years, in all his passions, Newt has never wanted anything more. He wants to spend his lifetime getting to be happy with this man and making this man happy.

“Hermann,” Newt begins when he pulls away.

“I know, Newton. Or I feel, I’m not really sure which it is. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermann lifts off his shirt and Newt’s suddenly aware that he’s stark naked and Hermann’s still dressed, which feels like a calamity. In the next moment, he’s more or less pawing at Hermann’s bottoms to tug them down and off, which makes some awkward maneuvering, taking a moment to be mindful of Hermann’s leg. Newt would like to have a moment to examine it, the knot of scar from both injury and ensuing surgeries, but he also knows it almost as though it’s mapped out on his own body. He knows the phantom pains of the injury in the back of his mind and will hold them for the rest of his life. It’s a cherished thing, because it’s not something Hermann readily shares, like his love of nineties anime or preference for white chocolate over either milk or dark. (Newt’s planning to hold onto those facts as well, though.)

Instead, Newt plays his next moment cool.

“That’s your, uh.” Newt pauses and bites his lower lip. “You’re naked and...yeah.”

“If you don’t want to do anything else, I understand.” Hermann’s eyes shift to conceal something and Newt has to kiss him then.

“No, I want it. I want you, it’s just that you’re so absolutely  _ human _ and beautiful.”

The smile Hermann gives him is surprisingly small and less surprisingly fond. Hermann leans over and reaches into the drawer, producing a condom from it. Newt lays back for a few moments, admiring what it means for them to be bare together like this and watching him as he unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. There’s a blush spreading across Hermann’s chest, as well as a smattering of freckles that’s equally interesting to Newt, nothing like his own, but the perfect amount to categorize and trace.

“Let me take care of the rest,” Newt says, firmly. “Just lay back and enjoy the show.”

“Very confident, are you?”

Nonetheless, Hermann doesn’t argue as he situates himself so he’s leaning against his pillows. He’s propped up rather than fully reclined. Newt slips down the bed, taking his cock in hand and giving a few tentative strokes before he leans down, licking at the tip. He doesn’t hesitate to take as much as he can into his mouth and Hermann’s hands fly to his head, holding his hair in a death grip. If Newt could talk at the moment, he’d let Hermann know that he likes to be treated a bit roughly now and then, but instead he moans softly and bobs his head.

He pulls away after he’s teased enough, making what he feels is a pornographic pop, but in actuality is a rather awkward smacking sound. Hermann immediately holds out the lube to him, expressing his urgency for the next move and Newt’s tempted for a few moments to tease further, but he doesn’t, instead slicking up his hand to stroke Hermann a few times. When he’s content with that, he squirts more lube on his fingers, rubbing and fucking them into himself for just a moment.

Confident that they’re both ready, Newt then scoots forward, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he lines up and then sinks down onto Hermann’s cock. If he thought being fingered by Hermann was fulfilling some deep need for a connection to him, this was something else. It’s all good, it all feels great, but there’s a primal energy to this act. He shifts slightly and then starts rocking his hips, bouncing as best as he can. 

“I can, uh- I can do better,” Newt comments, feeling suddenly bashful.

Shaking his head, Hermann cups Newt’s cheek and pulls him in for a kiss. “You’re doing perfectly, love.” The hand that isn’t on Newt’s cheek settles on his hip, helping to guide him. “This is the first of hopefully many times, so I personally would be disappointed if we weren’t both better next time, and the time after that.”

Newt’s still a bit tender from his adventure and now that the endorphins from his own orgasm have worn off a bit, he feels it a bit. But Hermann says that’s okay

“I was worried I would lose you,” Hermann admits, then. “Which was absurd in the face of immediate destruction of the human race and the planet.”

Gasping, Newt braces himself against Hermann’s shoulders. “I was worried I would never see you again. I didn’t want to die but if I was going to in the fight against the kaiju, I wanted it to be beside you.”

“Precisely, if death was inevitable then I at least wanted it to be with the person of my choosing.” Hermann nods shakily. “Just a bit, that’s perfect, Newton. Can you do that again?”

It’s not with the same energy as he had before, but the praise certainly helps Newt move a bit harder and add a bit of bounce to his movements.

“Can I-” Hermann grunts, rocking his hips up into the motion. “Can you lay back, fuck.”

For some reason, even after all they’ve done, hearing Hermann say fuck in that tone makes Newt blush in the very best way. Newt does as instructed, laying flat on the bed as Hermann kneels over him. He watches as Hermann rolls off the condom, taking himself in hand and stroking hard.

“That’s it, babe,” Newt grins as he talks. “Come for me, honey.” He has to examine this need to call Hermann every pet name he’s ever been remotely okay with using when this is all said and done.

Hermann gasps as he hits his release, long and drawn out. His come streaks across Newt’s stomach, in almost the precise spot Hermann had wiped Newt’s own release off on his stomach not too long ago. They sit staring at each other for a few moments in the afterglow, panting and disheveled and in some raw state that they will hopefully experience time and time again, but which seems pertinent because it is the first time.

The sound of a banging door outside brings them back to the present, sticky and sweaty and growing uncomfortable.

“Bathroom,” Newt mumbles, suddenly remembering his most basic biological needs.

In the bathroom, Newt moves as quickly as he can to clean himself up and look moderately more presentable. He’s not sure how much longer the love high and raw Hermann will last for and he intends to take advantage of every minute of that version of him that he can. Maybe they can even cuddle afterwards.

When he’s returned, Hermann has rearranged the bed and pulled his t-shirt back on, as well as put his hair to sorts, but he’s laying rather comfortably in the bed. Newt does very easily note, though, that Hermann has not bothered to pull on any sort of bottoms.

“Everything alright?” Hermann asks, his tone sweet.

“Yeah just had to- you know.” Newt offers him a smile and doesn’t hesitate to move back into the bed. “We just had sex.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Hermann returns the smile with one of his own. “Was it adequate?”

“Adequate? It was amazing, dude. I wanna do that again like…”

“In at least half an hour,” Hermann answers levelly, but there’s nothing but fondness in his tone. “Probably longer. You need to rest, I didn’t realize just how bruised you were.”

“I was kinda running for my life and getting tossed around Hong Kong.”

“You were almost  _ eaten _ .”

“You’re making it really hard not to make a joke about that right now, Hermann.”

Hermann glowers at him, but like many of his gestures, it’s lost a degree of its malice in the revelation of their current state. Newt rests his head against Hermann’s shoulder and glances up at him. In return, Hermann lifts Newt’s hand, gingerly extending and examining each finger. There’s few things Newt loves more than watching how Hermann’s hands move, adept and artful. In another lifetime, Hermann would have been a musician or an artist. Newt envies his hands and the calm steadiness that Hermann seems to carry with him, even though Newt knows they both carry similar anxiety and unease inside of them.

“Are you feeling better?” Hermann asks. “After last night?”

“Yeah. Anxiety is at a normal level.” Newt presses a kiss to Hermann’s shoulder. “How about you?”

“I feel better than I have since..” Hermann pauses as if he’s searching for a moment.

“2013?” Newt offers. Despite the life he’s lived and how all encompassing his world and work has become, Newt can still remember the precise moment everything changed. He wishes the kaiju had never come, which feels like growth for him, he just hopes that in every universe where they haven’t come, he still meets Hermann. The Newts out there without Hermann are very unlucky.

“Precisely.” Hermann laughs. “The world is saved, I not only have a future but I have a future with you.”

“We should think about getting up, see everyone, see if we can help.” Newt’s not thinking about that at all, but mentally counting down until the half hour is over and he can ask Hermann to explore the bedside drawer a bit further. He knows when he asks, Hermann will blush prettily, and that’ll be worth it even if the answer is no.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I haven’t actually seen Mako and Raleigh since they returned and I want to make sure the Marshal doesn’t need us urgently for anything. I can only imagine what he’s feeling right now, the poor man.”

“Just a few more hours?” Newt suggests. “We’re no good to anyone else if we haven’t rested up, you know.”

He’s pleased to learn that Hermann is more than willing to agree with his suggestion. When they’ve taken their hours, they’ll re-enter the world and start figuring out what comes next. Newt’s looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter @ newtguzzler!


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